


Beyond the Veil

by Radi_skull320



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: Angels, Angst, Character Death, Demons, Fallen Angels, HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR JUST TRUST ME, M/M, Slow Build, Tattoos, Vampires, Victorian, Werewolves, Zombies, didn't realize I was going to write about so many tattoos, so many tattoos, supernatural shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radi_skull320/pseuds/Radi_skull320
Summary: Stephen Strange is an occult hunter who was apprenticed to the Van Helsing family.  Once on his own, he encounters a lord, Anthony Stark, of the Greenwich hamlet.  It is an odd place that has been plagued with vampires, undead, werewolves, and various other occult problems for the townspeople.  Lord Stark is not a normal lord from Stephen's experience.  He is generally foolhardy and naive, but has a genuine desire to help the people of Greenwich and hopes to engineer a scientific analog to Stephen's abilities.Stephen agrees to impart what he can as a knowledgeable doctor of occult and hunting.  But soon he finds that the Stark manor is at the epicenter of strange happenings.  What could that possibly mean for the Stark family? But most of all, can a young lord rebuild a jaded hunter's faith in an afterlife for the sake of their souls?





	1. Not a moment's rest

Stephen Strange had been passing through the small hamlet of Greenwich, grateful for a warm meal and the prospect of sleep on an actual bed. He was settled at the tavern, away from the general townsfolk and excitedly broke through the golden brown crust of his meat pie. His peace did not last long as a woman crashed through the door.

“My son, he returns!” The woman cried to the tavern, closing the door behind her.

The townsfolk gasped in awe and Stephen was deeply confused as how this could be news. From behind the woman emerged a young boy of about five years. His eyes were sunken and empty, his skin was sallow, and he was dripping wet. 

“He was drowned and God has returned him to me.” The woman was overjoyed and threw her arms around the child. 

Before Stephen could utter a word of caution, the boy revealed a hand of made of only bone and dug the sharp digits into the woman’s neck. Blood gushed out and panic overtook the tavern. The townsfolk trampled past the pair for the door or cowered behind the halls of kitchen. Stephen reached for his bow and launched a silver-tipped arrow at the creature. It struck the boy between the eyes, sending him backward. Before the monster could hit the ground, the tavern door swung open once again, knocking the boy on top of his bleeding mother.

“That’s not a child-oh…” A dark haired man with cleaner clothes than the rest of the tavern stood in the doorway holding a contraption akin to a crossbow. He surveyed the room and saw several people still hiding where they could.

“My lord,” the woman on the floor gurgled faintly to the man in the doorway. 

“Mrs. Collins,” the man replied sadly. “I’m sorry, I followed you but could not get a clear shot.”

The woman looked away from the man and back to her now inanimate son. She held the child close and smiled as life left her eyes.

“Back away from her, for your safety.” Stephen instructed the lord, now with a dagger at the ready.

“She’s dead,” The man replied indignantly. “What harm-”

There was a scream as the once dead woman now launched herself at the lord, teeth now daggers going for his flesh. In a split second, her head was rolling on the floor and Stephen sighed at the man on the ground.

“Because she became a wight.” He pulled the man up off the ground to standing. The lord stood a few inches shorter than him. The shorter man looked disgusted as he tried to get as much of the dirt and blood from Mrs. Collins off of his clothes. Deeming it futile, he looked back at Stephen. 

“I’m Anthony Stark, my family governs the lands of this area. Don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“I was just about to resume passing through.” Stephen muttered and headed for the door.

“Wait, please.” Anthony grabbed Stephen’s wrist, but quickly retracted when he was met with an ice blue stare of irritation. “This was only the first in _ this _ hamlet to experience the dead walking again. I was on my way here to warn them. I was returning home after investigating the nearby lands.”

Stephen looked down at the contraption in the man’s hands. 

“Oh this?” Anthony looked down and brought tool into view. “I call it a repeater! It’s a crossbow that holds several bolts at once. No need to reload.”

Stephen tried to hide his fleeting look of admiration. “Anthony-”

“Please call me Tony,” the man interrupted. “Based on my travels, I’ve gathered that silver is a necessity for the bolts. But clearly I’m not gathering information fast enough.”

The earnestness on Tony’s face caught Stephen by surprise. He was not like other lords he had met, far removed from their people. Tony seemed determined to find a solution to the problem.

“Listen, I’m not asking you to stay forever.” Tony pleaded. “Just to teach me enough to take care of my people. I know silver is hard to come by but Stark Manor can supply us with the resources we need.”

“Really, _us_?” Stephen finally replied. 

“Yes.” Tony said, surprised. “I’m serious, I will be a great pupil.”

Stephen pondered what it would be like to not travel for a while. Even if the place was infested with the undead. With resources, he could continue to study as well and strengthen his occult tools. He looked back and saw Tony extend a hand to him. A naive and hopeful expression was worn on the shorter man’s face, again surprising Stephen. It reminded him of himself when he had agreed to apprentice with the Helsing family.

“I suppose.” Stephen extended his gloved hand.

“Yes!” Tony latched on excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”

Stephen was sure that wouldn’t be true.


	2. Of ember and lightning

Stark manor was astounding. It appeared to be far too much space for so few amount of people living in it. Lace curtains were left billowing in open windows and oil paintings of what Stephen assumed to be relatives were hung on the walls. He was led by the lord to the morning room, where the Tony could light the paraffin chandelier and his own candle. 

“Anthony, you return!” A woman appeared from the entryway.

“Mother,” Tony replied with surprise and mild annoyance. “You’re home as well.”

“Of course, where else would I be? Lady Potts visited today for you and I sadly had to turn her away. What on earth could you have been gone for the whole of a week that is so important?”

“Important? The people of our lands are being plagued with the dead walking, mother, I cannot believe-” Tony answered incensed.

“And who might you be dear?” Tony’s mother ignored her son and turned to Stephen.

“That’s...um, actually I didn’t catch your name.” Tony stuttered bashfully. “He is a brave man and a good resource for the undead problem we’re having.”

“Typical Anthony,” his mother chided. “Bringing people home and not even getting their name.”

“Mother!” Tony blushed a bit.

“I am Doctor Stephen Strange madam.” Stephen bowed to the woman gently.

“A doctor?” Both parties replied inquisitively.

“A title specific to my sect of hunters, sorry for any confusion.”

“Hunter...” Tony’s mother attempted to mask disgust. “Well Anthony, whatever company you keep, you remember you role in this family.”

“Is that really all you can care about with the dead rising outside?” Tony spoke exasperated, like this was a conversation he had had many times.

“Your priorities have you father rolling in his grave.”

“And with your priorities, he’ll be up and out of it to kick down our front door!”

“Glad to meet you doctor.” The woman forced a smile and exited the room.

When a door shut to the woman’s room upstairs, a pause hung in the air between the two men. Stephen glanced at Tony trying to think of something to say.

“She was-” He started.

“Just don’t, no need.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just follow me.” Tony took a candle and led the hunter to a set of stairs heading downward. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, Tony set the candle down to man a large switch. With the circuit complete, lighting traveled up a spire to illuminate the stone walls. It revealed a large room with various contraptions strewn about great wooden tables. All manner of metal was organized on the largest table in the shape of crossbow bolts. Pages from books were held steady in the few windows. Tony moved to shovel coal into a large furnace emanating warm red light that contrasted the blue glow of the lighting rods.

“Welcome to my laboratory.” Tony flourished and beamed with pride. 

Stephen continued to survey the room, examining some artifacts and notes. All ink on the page was scribbled in a hurry. Still, the man of science seemed to be glancing the surface of the occult. Stephen was moderately impressed.

“I see you’ve written...a lot.”

“Yes, I’ve researched all I could about these happenings in the nearby lands.” Tony began, trying to meter his words. “The dead walk here, there are blood circles in the forests, and don’t get me started on the werewolves to the south.”

Stephen recalled some werewolves as he had been approaching Greenwich from that direction. Tony grabbed a map of the countryside and set it on a nearby table. He motioned for the hunter to take a seat with him. Ink showed the the perimeter of occult happenings. 

“I was returning from the Barton estate when I met you today.” Tony indicated it on the map. “Young family, children at risk. I provided him with some silver for his arrows. With him manning their perimeter, they will be safe.”

Stephen squinted at the map.

“Where is Stark manor on this again?”

“Here.” Tony indicated the point equidistant from several of his occult-related travels.

Stephen was a little concerned they were at the center, but there wasn’t yet enough data to assume anything about Stark manor itself. He looked at the table with bolts on the nearby table. 

“You have the silver and vials of mercury. I don’t know what else I have to teach you.” Stephen remarked. It was true that was the minimum that he taught those he was passing by.

“Look.” Tony put the map down. “As a man of science, it is clear that these things follow some sort of rules. And you would know a great many of those rules, doctor.” Tony punctuated the title. “Come with me on a short trip, tell me what I could do better. Or let me watch you in action, I’ll write everything down and go from there.”

Stephen noticed how close the shorter man had gotten to him on the table bench. Those pleading brown eyes really intrigued and irritated him.

“I’ll give you the repeater.” Tony added bittersweetly.

Tony grabbed Stephen’s hand to place the crossbow into it, but Stephen recoiled at the touch. This left the leather glove in Tony’s grasp and exposed Stephen’s hand and forearm.

“Jumpy, aren’t we.” Tony said bemused. “And what’s this?”

Stephen tried to retrieve his glove to no avail as the lord threw it to the end of the table. He caught Stephen’s arm and examined his findings. All skin visible on the hunter’s hand and forearm was covered in tattoos. Some overlapping each other in different colors. Half and full mandalas, sigils, and crests were present where space would allow. Tony absently traced a few on the hunter’s skin until Stephen pushed the lord away in annoyance. He leapt up from the table and grabbed his glove.

“Fascinating.” Tony hummed.

“And forbidden.” Stephen barked. “How dare you.”

“See! Those are not the things I would find in books.” Tony hurriedly stood up and spoke frantically, again invading Stephen’s space. “I’m not trying to take that away from you. Keep what secrets you want, but there must be a scientific analog or similarity that I can use.”

“I am not your Prometheus, I’ll gift you no fire.” Stephen spat.

“No but I can at least understand the components, the heat and energy needed to make fire.” Tony took a deep breath and backed off suddenly. “I’ve pressed too hard. I am guilty of that at times.” He moved away and motioned to the stairwell upwards. “Let me gift you hospitality for saving my life. A bed and perhaps a bath for tomorrow. I need to replenish before I travel again anyway.”

Stephen was very tired. A free bed compared to what he would have paid at the inn did seem much better. He put his glove back on.

“Fine.” The hunter muttered. “A  _ warm  _ bath.”

“The warmest.” Tony grinned. And the pair went upstairs.


	3. Of bodyguards and bathwater

Stephen woke up with a start, covered in sweat in an unfamiliar bed. Nightmares were nothing out of the ordinary for the older hunter. However, the sheets that stuck to him were oddly soft against his skin. Glancing around, he recalled the events of the previous evening. The undead boy, Lord Stark, and the illuminated laboratory. He stretched out in the sheets, joints yelling at him as he willed himself back to life. He paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling.

_ What have I agreed to? _

A young maid peeked in, but did not make eye contact with the man in the bed. 

“Very sorry sir, I was just checking to see if your were awake. The lord requested a  _ warm _ bath for you, we’ve been doing our best.” She said meekly motioning to the washroom and holding a simple robe out to him in her other hand.

“Greatly appreciated.” He said warmly.

A large tub on the second floor was emanating wisps steam. Stephen was nearly giddy. He could not recall a proper tub since his apprenticeship. As a man of few pleasures, this was definitely high on his list. 

He settled into the warmth and let the water seep into sore muscles. Days of travel, alertness for attacks, and general stress of existence seeped out of him. He worked up a lather to quickly wash up and return to soaking. He could have fallen asleep again had it not been for the knock on the door.

Not awaiting a response, Tony burst through the door and moved toward the doctor.

“What the hell!” Stephen yelled and tried to angle his body away from the lord.

“I was just thinking,” Tony began quickly, seemingly unbothered by the doctor’s protests. “What if we used the quicksilver in shotgun shells!” He finally looked at Stephen directly and paused again.

Tony’s eyes blatantly raked over the man in the tub, admiring the presented physique. The rest of Stephen’s chest and back matched the tattoos Tony had seen earlier. Less dense in quantity, but still a myriad of designs along the hunter’s skin. One specific design was disrupted along the man’s back due to a large gash. 

“I demand you leave!” Stephen yelled again. It wasn’t an issue of shame, but having specifically come from nothing but bathhouses, he had hoped for a moment to himself.

“That’s a nasty gash though doc.” Tony pointed to Stephen’s back. 

“What?!” Stephen glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, a large tear in his skin had disrupted his sigil of Artemis. “Fuck!”

“Here here, let me.” Tony fetched some needle and thread. He sat on a stool behind Stephen. Luckily the wound was clean now due to the bath. 

“I can just burn it.” Stephen started, really not wanting the other man to touch him.

“You’d burn other markings, I imagine they mean something so we can’t have that.” Tony offered his calculated statement. The lord produced a large cinnamon stick for the man in the bath. Stephen looked at him inquisitively.

“It’ll have flavor when you bite it.”

“I forgot about a gash, I think I can handle a little needle.” The hunter threw the stick to the side.

Stephen froze at initial contact with the man’s fingers. With surprising gentleness compared to his invasive attitude, Stephen felt the lord nervously stitching his skin together. He recognised it was a pattern meant for cloth, but it would adequately hold. With the aid of the lingering warmth in the water, Stephen willed himself to relax.

“How long would all of these markings take anyway?” Tony asked while he worked.

“The better part of five years altogether I guess.” Stephen found himself answering without protest. “Some had rituals involved in their imprint.”

“Fascinating.” Stephen could feel Tony’s eyes boring through his skin.

“Yes, some need specific ink anyway, so don’t bother copying them with your quill.”

Tony seemed a little crestfallen, but continued to work diligently.

“How do sigils work anyway? Can they be written in anything? Maybe even in dirt? Oh, it could be like a ring of armor around the land!” Tony was less asking and more thinking aloud. He slipped in his work and stabbed Stephen pretty good.

“Ow, focus will you?” The hunter was annoyed but could see the value in preventative measures. However, the range of weird events would mean he had to research some sort of omni sigil. He wasn’t aware of ultimate panacea for every dark magic, well that wasn’t costly anyway.

“Anyway, I was thinking. Quicksilver in the shells could deliver a hit inside and out.”

Stephen hated to admit it, but he nodded to validate the idea.

Tony finished his work just as the water became uncomfortable. The lord found a towel as Stephen stood up.

“Are all hunters such fine specimens as,” Tony made a gesture to all of the naked man. “You?” 

Stephen grunted in annoyance and ignored the question. He snatched the towel from the young lord and gave a good rustle through his salt and pepper hair.

“I’ll leave you be then.” Tony made to leave. “You should join me for a meal and then-”

“And then I’ll be leaving.” Stephen snapped, getting his towel around his waist. 

“Oh.” Tony again wore his crestfallen expression, Stephen was starting to hate how transparent the young lord was. “What direction would you be headed?”

“North.” 

“But I am headed that way too!” Tony smiled emphatically. “With all that’s happening it would be dangerous for both of us to go alone. Just wait until midday and I will head with you. I’ll have supplies and-”

“I thought you weren’t heading out again for another day.” Stephen challenged while putting on his clothes.

“I can be flexible.”

“You are a lord of what some would consider a small country. I don’t see that position as very flexible.” Once he had gotten his shirt on, he felt it brush against the new stitches. His reaction time would be a little slowed, particularly with the wound on his right shoulder. Having provisions would be a nice change too. Much to his chagrin, he did find himself pondering the idea of having Tony as a companion for part of the trip. He then realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had traveled with another person. Once fully clothed he looked at the ground, aware Tony was still in the room. “I suppose your proposal is sensible, but do not get in my way.” He wagged a finger at the younger man.

Tony poorly hid his glee and headed out the door.

When Stephen finally exited the washroom, he heard voices downstairs. There were people in the morning room again. The voice belonged to Tony and another woman.

***

“I didn’t hear from you,” A softer voice that Tony’s mother pleaded. “I was worried. But our coachman happened to return home to me and shared that your lab was the color of lightning again.”

***

Stephen peered over the railing and was joined by the maid from earlier.

“That’s Lady Potts.” The maid whispered to Stephen. “My lord’s betrothed.”

“A betrothed lord...running about the countryside...fighting the occult.” Stephen muttered. “No wonder his mother isn’t pleased.”

“Oh but they are hard people to please, the Starks.” The maid replied in a hushed tone. “But not Tony. He saved my sister from a werewolf attack. He refused I come here to serve him, but I insisted I pay the debt.” She looked at Stephen earnestly. “We need him, so we cover for him where we can.”

Stephen was impressed. No formal training and combatted a were. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to have him as a companion.

***

“I’m betrothed but not beholden, dear.” Tony said loudly. “You’re the closest I’ve come and I hope that you don’t take that the wrong way.”

***

Stephen looked at the maid inquisitively. She made a face.

“Lord Tony has unique tastes.” She pondered and giggled. “In that he has a taste for everyone. I’ll admit, that tendency has lessened as the lord exited boyhood and as the occult happenings became more prevalent.”

Stephen wasn’t sure what to make of such a comment, but he did an odd lightness in his stomach

***.

“I understand that, but you must let me know that you are at least well and alive.” Lady Potts was trying to be stern, but clearly fighting tears.

***

“You should head down there.” The maid nudged Stephen.

Stephen made a look of protest, but was again struck by Tony’s eyes imploring him from the floor below. A lady with strawberry blonde hair was weeping gently onto Tony’s shoulder. With a heavy sigh, the hunter lazily walked down the stairs to the couple below, making sure to loudly rattle the coins in his pouches and chains on his clothing. This caused the woman to look up and quickly rebuild composure.

“See, I’ll be as safe as can be.” Tony wiped a tear from the Lady. “I have this hunter to protect me, the best occult bodygaurd.”

“I beg your pardon?” Stephen was offended to sound as if he had been employed by the lord. But he quickly saw the relief on the face of the lady as she approached him. 

“Please help us good sir.” She took Stephen’s gloved hand as her’s were both shaking. 

“I will do my best, my lady.” Stephen replied begrudgingly. “However, I am only as effective as my charges are obedient.” He shot a glare toward Tony. Tony caught the look and became immediately interested in the nearby portrait frame.

“I understand those limitations.” And the lady offered a similar glance at the lord, who was detailing the very corner of the frame.

“Great craftsmanship, certainly.” He muttered.


	4. The old manor

The pair were traveling with enough supplies that would normally last Stephen through the month. They traveled the direction he had intended, but not the path he would have chosen had it not been for the young lord. While their horses plodded along in the cooling evening, Tony prattled on about the area. Apparently, Stephen was being taken along a route that would pass by Tony’s childhood home, as if the current manor wasn’t enough. When not talking about the history of Greenwich, he would ask the hunter _ many _ questions about the nature of hunting. Truly, Stephen found himself stuck with a companion rife with affluence and irritation. He tried to ride along as if every detail about him _ wasn’t _ under the meticulous scrutiny of the young lord.

“Why a red cloak?” Tony asked suddenly after disclosing a period of history. It took Stephen a moment to notice that he had been addressed directly and that his companion was not just thinking aloud. Yes the cloak he had been wearing this whole time was red.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Stephen spat back.

“No, it’s just...noticeable.” 

“You’re wearing a red waistcoat.”

“That’s different!” He replied. “It’s my favorite color and it’s under several layers. Hardly noticeable.” He put his hands on his hips holding back said layers to display the garment. Stephen’s eyes darted unconsciously at it to Tony’s satisfaction. It was a nice color on him. Having been caught, Stephen blushed and looked up at the sky.

“Nothing about you is ‘hardly noticeable.’” The hunter grumbled.

Evening was threatening their travels along the path. It wasn’t that Stephen was unfamiliar with the darkness, but he had a sense Tony would likely attract trouble. There was a sudden and deafening crack in the air and that spooked Stephen’s horse. As he wrestled with the animal, Tony dismounted.

“It’s me! A little earlier than expected!” Tony yelled out to the darkness.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Stephen yelled, alarmed at the man’s frankness. A dark figure leapt through the trees and landed on the ground near the lord. The hunter quickly dismounted, losing hold of the horse to stand between Tony and approaching hooded form.

“I said unaccompanied.” The figure replied.

“Trust me, we want his help.”

The hood of the figure came down, revealing a woman with steel eyes and dark crimson hair. She was dressed for stealth and practicality, the complete opposite of the women at the manor. Irritatedly, she threw down her musket before the pair.

“It’s not like you’ve ever listened to me anyway.” The woman said sternly. 

“Natasha, my darling stewardess.” Tony moved toward her looking for an embrace, but she stopped him at arm’s length. 

“It is a wonder you are still alive Anthony.”

“Yes, I feel you should have told me we were going to meet someone out here!” Stephen chimed in, looking disappointedly at the horse galloping away.

“Sorry Stephen, this is Natasha.” Tony, presented her like a noblewoman.

“Vampire hunter I gather?” She shook Stephen’s forearm gruffly.

“More of a generalist these days.” 

“Around here they call her the Widow of the Wood.” Tony added with a grin.

“You know I hate that title Tony,” She revealed a lantern from under her cloak. Using the flint for her musket, she provided them light for the rest of the journey to the old manor. “It implies someone was worthy of my affections.”

“How did it come about then?” Stephen remarked with curiosity.

“Eh, it keeps the kids away from the old manor and gets them home before dark.” She started up the path. “Particularly so close to the longest night.”

Stephen felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He was reminded why he had been in such haste to travel through Greenwich to the north. It was the eve of the winter solstice, the day before the Veil would be most thin. Stephen regretted having companions for during such a time and chastised himself for letting the days blur in his mind again.

“Listen, Tony,” He pleaded with the younger man. “This is a bad idea.”

“I don’t care that you lost the horse, Stephen. I have others.” Tony smiled and followed Natasha.

“I’m serious. You could get seriously hurt.” Stephen grabbed the man by the shoulders and forced eye contact.

“Concerned about little old me? But I’ve got you!” Tony pat the hunter’s shoulders. “I promise I’ll follow whatever instructions you have for me...once we’re inside.”

\---

Inside was dark and cold. A cold that reverberated too familiarly in Stephen’s bones. Conversely, Tony moved around much too excitedly for a man confronted with his potentially haunted childhood home. Through a pair of large greek doors, the trio’s footsteps echoed as they entered the foyer. Before them towered dilapidated wooden stairs with banisters that curled into a jagged spiral. The floor beneath them was a mosaic of glass with the abstract image of the Stark family crest. Against the light of the lantern, Stephen could see Natasha’s breath. 

“At what age did you move out of here?” Stephen asked into the air. 

“Eh, not soon enough.” Tony seemed very familiar with the room, moving to a side table just out of plain sight. “It’s an ancestral home, didn’t suit mother and I.”

The air hung stiller than Stephen could tolerate. From under his shirt, he produced a pendant in the shape of an eye with a green crystal in the center. He held it up for his forehead and closed his eyes. It glowed bright as he peered through the pendant, grabbing Tony’s attention. The hunter scanned the room revealing verdant spectres all around them. Natasha thrashed around trying to throw light on the ghosts as one passed through her. 

Tony walked up to a figure that was about waist height and standing nearly still. He reached out to it only to have the figure dissipate.

“Morgan.” He became stern. “Strange, what are we seeing.”

“The Veil will become progressively thinner through the solstice, Stark. We are seeing ghosts.”

Some figures reacted to Tony’s voice and lunged toward him. Stephen quickly put the pendant away leaving Tony to only feel a cold chill.

“What phenomena have been happening in the woods, Natasha.” Stephen asked with trepidation.

“Circles of blood in the woods with odd symbols carved in the trees.” She said eyeing her surroundings warily. 

“That’s what I was worried about.” Stephen said darkly.

Green lightning tore through the sky, making all three of them jump. They slowly moved toward one another to the center of the room. The following thunder seemed endless, until the ground started to shake. 

“Strange!” Tony motioned to a broken window. The source of the rumbling was apparently a mad rush of undead coming for the manor. 

“Barricade the doors, now!” Stephen commanded. He pushed a sofa against the doors they entered while Natasha and Tony did the same against a set of doors on the opposing wall. Stephen reached into a pouch and threw, what looked like, coins against both doors. Flame erupted where the coins hit and where they fell, burning sigils onto the doors and on the ground below.

“Oh wow.” Tony gasped in admiration.

“Not now! Get to the center and ready your repeater!” Stephen yelled to get the man’s attention. The three huddled with weapons at the ready. Tony with his repeater, Natasha with her musket, and Stephen several more coins nestled between his fingers. Through the windows, they watched as a couple of waves of undead smashed against the doors but exploded in flame. When the doors did give way from the sheer volume of bodies, several more burned against the sigil on the ground. Stragglers decided to break windows and crawl towards the trio. Tony gleefully fired away at the oncomers and Natasha fired shells at the mass. Stephen whispered against one coin that exploded into crimson bands, trapping and crushing a slew of undead.

“Shit!” Tony was fumbling to reload. An undead launched at his face forcing Tony to dodge and drop bolts. With a crack, a whip took out the head of the offending monster. Tony looked up to find Stephen looking very concerned and standing between him and the thinning horde. He was holding a whip that crackled with golden light and a tattoo on his right pec that pulsed with the same glow through his shirt. Quickly Tony was helped to his feet so Stephen could take out another monster coming toward Natasha. With another sudden crash of green lightning, all the remaining horde fell to the ground. Natasha and Tony looked at Stephen who returned a look of confusion. A strong gust of wind blew out the lantern despite its protections and the trio visibly shivered. 

“You both need to get out of here.” Stephen whispered.

“But-” Tony protested.

“You said you’d listen to me once inside.”

“We can head out through the wine cellar, my lord.” Natasha motioned to a wooden door in the side of the staircase.

Tony pondered and agreed.

The two rushed off through the door. The moment it shut, Stephen tossed another coin that fused into the wood and burned a sigil of blue flame. The pair of doors in the entryway were flung aside as a pale being entered the foyer. The dust began to settle, revealing a man with braided silver hair and golden robes, all splattered with blood. In contrast to his pale skin, a mark of darkness pulsed in the center of his forehead. 

“Strange?” The being questioned in an oddly warm but surprised tone.

“Kaecilius.” The hunter spat back with whip at the ready.

“Oh come now,” Kaecilius extended a hand that was immediately rejected. “Of all the people to find here, the least I expected to see was you, Witchdoctor.”

Stephen bristled and answered with a familiar annoyance.

“You know I hate that term, it creates a lot of misunderstandings.”

“For who?” Kaecilius retorted. “Humans? Don’t tell me you’ve sunk to such boring companions. If they really knew-”

“Cut the crap, bloodsucking trash.”

“Well hello to you too,” Kaecilius sighed heavily and began to circle Strange like a predator. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I could ask the same of you?” Stephen countered cooly, circling in return and keeping his back away from Kaecilius. “I could have sworn we destroyed your tether to the living world.”

“Someone wanted me back, I suppose.” He motioned to the mark on his forehead. “And with new friends,” He glanced at the piles of ashes and corpses littering the floor. “Who you rudely dispatched.” 

Stephen glanced around at the mess. He had to admit, the damage they had done was impressive.

“How is the old Helsing-” Kaecilius paused knowingly and smirked. “Oh right.”

Stephen cracked the whip, the sound commanding attention and silence. “Why are you in Greenwich?!” 

Kaecilius tutted at the hunter.

“We’re not after you, we gave up chasing you. We figured you’d die at some point through your own folly.” He stopped to look at Stephen dead on and bore his fangs threateningly. “No, we’re here for the young lord.”

There was an odd pang in his chest. Stephen tried to feign ignorance, but paused in his walking too suddenly.

“Have you met him, a foolhardy young man. I believe this is his childhood home.” Kaecilius motioned nonchalantly at the room. “And here you are, in it.”

“Strange coincidence indeed.” Was all Stephen could think of.

The pale man laughed loudly at the pun but looked back at the hunter triumphantly.

“Oh Stephen, there are no coincidences when it comes to the supernatural.”

Stephen looked down and found he was standing on the mosaic. Single tiles glowed a deep purple forming a large circle around him. The glow of his whip faded and Stephen crumpled as random sigils on his skin flared purple and paralyzed him. Kaecilius moved at lighting speed toward the cellar door only to have his hand burned with blue flame.

Even paralyzed and miserable, Stephen couldn’t help but snicker at the ancient vampire. Kaecilius lunged at his offender, fangs bared with intent to eviscerate. The familiar sound of rolling thunder built up outside signaled another wave of undead heading toward their leader.

“This is for the first time you killed me!” Kaecilius prepared to tear into the hunter. Stephen tensed what he could and prepared to die, content with the thought he had made the vampire’s quarry difficult to catch. But was met with silence.

“I GOT HIM!” Tony’s voice echoed from the second floor of the foyer. Stephen opened his eyes and saw that a silver bolt had gone through the back of Kaecilius’ head and was visible through his fangs. He found he could move and pushed the corpse of the vampire off of him. The rolling thunder quieted but the air of the home was still thick with supernatural energy. There was the patter of steps down the decrepit stairway and Tony appeared alongside Stephen to offer a hand.

“Did you see that? I got a vampire!” He beamed at the taller man. “I’m so glad you’re okay. It looked really bad there for a minute.”

Stephen looked down at the vampire on the floor as he faded to dust. He stood there staring, still reeling from the encounter. Tony grabbed him by the arm and led him out of the manor.


	5. Of witches and whiskey

Natasha led them into the village and the area’s idea of a tavern. The pair of men offered to have her stay with them, but she opted to return to her home nearby, but she agreed to wake them in the morning. Stephen threw out the only bedroll they had left, preparing to sleep on the floor. He shifted on the fabric trying to shrug off some odd pains on his skin, likely from the events in the manor. But Tony sat at the small table in the room and stared at Stephen expectantly motioning to the opposite chair.

“Do you really think we’re going to be sleeping after that?” Tony remarked.

“You’d be surprised.” Stephen replied, not wanting to acknowledge the truth in the statement.

“Come on,” Tony produced a large bottle of amber liquid from his pack. He took a long swig and shook his head hard. “It’ll help.” He choked out.

Stephen sighed but did agree that alcohol would help his frayed nerves. He took his place across from the shorter man. The amber liquid smelled very strong but went down much better for the hunter than it did the lord. The burn settled nicely into his empty stomach. Stephen couldn’t remember the last time he had alcohol. Tony was verbally silent, but vibrating in his seat.

“Out with it.” Stephen commanded.

“What makes you think-” Tony replied too quickly.

“Really?! Nothing to say, nothing at all?” Stephen could tell he had responded too harshly with the look that Tony offered in return. He felt a pang in his chest at the expression.

“I just thought that,” The young lord suddenly found himself sheepish. “You know, we made a pretty good team.”

Stephen was taken aback. Where was the cocky and foolhardy companion he had been traveling with for the past couple of days.

“Yes,” the hunter said slowly finding it hard to look Tony in the eye. “We were...efficient. And thank you, for saving my life.” He took another swig and returned the bottle. “How much did you hear?” He asked, reminded of the conversation with Kaecilius.

“You know,” Tony looked around. “No mu-, some-, a little.” Stephen thinned his gaze in irritation. “Okay all of it. And if you can’t tell, I feel very bad about it. I felt like I was eavesdropping on something...personal.” Tony huffed and pouted with crossed arms.

Stephen was shocked at this reaction.

“Are you...jealous?” Tony couldn’t seem to get a word out in response, but the tone was generally that of feigned denial. He opted for a swig from the bottle. Stephen pressed his palms together and tried to layout his understanding simply.

“You’re jealous that a murderous vampire, appeared...chummy with me?”

“Wh-Well, when you put it that way…” Tony wrung his hands.

“How else is there to put it?!” Stephen snapped but took a deep steadying breath trying to meter his tone. He wasn’t trying to hurt the man’s feelings. “Tony, he said the hordes were after you, and that is what you take away from the conversation?”

“Yes, there’s that bit of information, that we have now. So that’s progress.”

Stephen gripped the bottle turning his knuckles white.

“But also, he seemed like he really knew you.” Tony squared himself to look Stephen in the face. “Look you’ve saved my life a couple of times, you’ve been to my laboratory, and literally seen the ghosts of my childhood. I’d like to get to know you a little, if that’s okay.”

He had never encountered someone so frank. Stephen leaned back on the chair to look at the man sitting in front of him. They had both disrobed down to necessities for bed leaving a vulnerable atmosphere between them. Despite him not needing to do manual labor, Tony had acquired a sunkissed physique. There would be some bruising from their battle with undead, but Tony appeared untouched otherwise giving Stephen a sense of relief. He was met with pleading brown eyes that were more disarming than a vampire trance. Either the alcohol or nervousness from being scrutinized so intensely left Stephen’s cheeks hot. 

“Fine! What do you want to know?”

Tony paused, not breaking gaze and trying not to smile. “Witchdoctor?”

Stephen audibly groaned and put his head on the table.

“Please, I will never ever say it again after this. I just need to know.” Tony quickly tried to justify his request and promised emptily. Stephen sat up and looked distantly at the floor. He took a long audible gulp from the bottle, wondering how to make the answer make narrative sense.

“There was once a camp of roaming witches that was burned to the ground by a hateful man. Among the wreckage was a lone survivor, a young boy. He traveled along the road for help and found an older bespectacled gentleman. This gentleman followed the boy and listened to his hardships. Once at the camp, the gentleman recognized it for what it was. He offered to take in the child, but there was clear a choice would have to be made later on.”

Stephen set his hands up like scales and remembered the words laid out to him.

“To study under the gentleman for all his years or to leave with the next group of travelers. That gentleman was Jacob Van Helsing and the boy chose the learn under him for as long as he was allowed. He learned how to hunt all manner of monsters and evil creatures, but was left with some guilt about abandoning his roots as a witch.”

Tony leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. 

“When the boy reached manhood, there was a crack of green lightning at the door of Jacob’s home. There appeared a leader of a vampire clan that Jacob and the boy had vanquished, Kaecilius. Only this time he returned as an avatar of the demon Dormammu. As it turns out, the one who had torched the witches’ camp was the boy’s father, who made a deal with the demon for riches beyond measure in exchange for the soul of his firstborn son. Thinking of a loophole, he believed he killed his only partner and child and planned to have no further children of his own. This would allow the man to live in peace, but he had just been murdered for his riches. And now the demon was here to collect.

Jacob and the witch fled for a few years, with enough wiles and knowledge to avoid capture by the demon. To his adopted son’s joy, they traveled with a new band of witches and exchanged much knowledge fighting the forces of darkness.”

Stephen motioned to the tattoos on his body.

“On a day that Jacob felt confident in the witch’s skills to evade the demons, he readied to leave him with the camp. Kaecilius found them and was powerful enough to manifest the demon itself onto this plane of existence. In a scuffle that, again, killed Kaecilius and stopped the manifestation, Jacob was mortally wounded. He knew the demons would try to collect the witch’s soul again so he made it a little more...unattainable.”

Stephen looked at Tony, significantly more tired. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again.

“That was 100 years ago Tony. I brought the news to Jacob’s nephew, Dr. Abraham Van Helsing and we sorted out exactly what Jacob and done to me. I imparted the knowledge of witches to the doctor and in return I got the same title.”

“‘What.” Was all Tony could muster. “The Helsing family line has been lost for nearly 50 years. So you’re...oh my god. But you...don’t look terribly older than myself.”

Stephen revealed a brands on the palms of his hands, they looked like one of his coins had been burned into his skin.

“I age slowly, yes. And this body doesn’t get sick. But I can definitely die from a mortal wound.” Stephen mentioned matter-of-factly. “Jacob’s rationale was that ‘all people get a choice and it was unfair that my soul was sold before I could be rightfully judged.’ But I can’t help but think that whether or not I live forever should have been my choice in itself.” He pounded the table angrily.

“What’s wrong with living forever?” Tony asked naively.

“The problem is that I won’t!” Stephen snapped. “That a human soul isn’t meant to pay penance for the sins of several lifetimes! I came to Greenwich to find an artifact called the ferryman’s absolution. That way I can finally die knowing my soul isn’t marked for demonic consumption.”

It was Tony’s turn to take a long swig from the bottle. He tried to succinctly digest all of this information in his slowing brain.

“That was...a lot to process.” Tony uttered trying to sound as kind as possible.

“You asked.” Stephen turned his body in a huff.

He didn’t know what to make of the semi-mortal man’s story, but he could still recognize that the hunter had been hurt by time, literally. He put his hand on one of Stephen’s folded arms.

“Thanks for telling me. It must be very hard to have lived as long as you have. If you want, I’d like to help you.”

Stephen looked at Tony suspiciously. “Why?”

“It’s my life and my choice.” The young lord said decidedly. 

There was a crack of lightning and a roll of thunder that, thankfully, ended after a moment. The sound spooked both men and Tony found the witch’s hand covering his. Stephen looked down and jerkily removed his hand to make it look like he was reaching for the bottle.

Disappointed, Tony gracelessly thought of another question.

“Why didn’t you use the whip before?” 

“It needs magic...causes a lot of alarm.” His hands were still lightly folded and Stephen absently traced a sigil on his bicep. On contact he flinched violently making him get up too quickly. With adrenaline long gone from his system, he realized several images on his body were still sore from the trap. “Dammit.”

“Are you okay?” Tony got up and moved toward the hunter with concern.

“Yea,” Stephen could feel his head swim as rough sensation commanded his consciousness. “Burns a little...sore. Oil, in my pack.”

Tony helped Stephen to the bed and got him to lie with his back on the wall. He then rushed to the leather satchel at the other end of the room. Inside were several tinctures and Tony brought a palmful of vials to the hunter, who poorly grabbed at the correct one. 

“Let me.” Tony insisted, putting a large amount of oil on his fingertips and then moved along the offending mark on the hunter’s skin causing Stephen to flinch. “Just hold a little still.”

Tony started with the initial marking on the man’s bicep. On contact, Stephen hissed in protest and tried to breathe steadily. The juniper and rose hip scents seemed to help calm him down. The feeling of burning slowly subsided and Stephen opened one eye to examine the handiwork of the smaller man. His movements much slower and more delicate than if Stephen were to do this himself. Tony massaged into the taut muscle, pushing Stephen to relax further. His caretaker was so close to him that Stephen could smell the alcohol on his breath. The hunter felt himself get hotter by a few degrees.

“Anywhere else doc?” The young lord asked trying not to look Stephen in the face. The witch tried to shrug off the pain but brushed his arm against the large whip emblem on his pectoral, making him grunt through grit teeth. Tony slicked his whole palm and laid on to the marking, eliciting a quieter hiss. The pain was more fleeting and the contact was warm and lingering. Stephen did not recoil at the increased contact or the slow and continued kneading movements of the lord. Tony’s hand ventured outside the limits of the marking finding the indent of Stephen’s chest and brushing over a nipple. The hunter gasped suddenly and leaned into the young lord’s touch. Covering both hands, Tony massaged the slick mixture down Stephen’s ribs, reaching a swath of markings and surface area. Magically oversensitive nerves were being rejuvenated and caressed with an attention that Stephen had not experienced from another person for some time. The purrs and sounds spilling forth made Stephen sound like a touch-starved maiden, but he no longer cared. 

“Tony, that feels…” Stephen uttered breathily only to find the brunette avoiding his eyes. “Look at me.” His large hands forced Tony to meet his gaze. Once honey brown eyes were dark with lust and his cheeks were so hot in his palms.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said sheepishly. “You’re just so” He ran slick hands to Stephens hips making his pale blue eyes flutter. “...remarkable.” 

There was the look that caused a protective warmth to bleed through Stephen’s chest. The look of honesty and a type of innocence that Stephen found himself growing fond of and hoping he would see more often. He he tugged his caretaker down and kissed him gently.

Despite being blatantly responsible for the directions of the evening, Stephen found Tony oddly still at the touch. But not rejecting. He pulled back slightly, but was quickly pursued at the lips by the younger man. Tony tasted like whiskey and he would not stop rubbing slick hands along any exposed skin. Stephen was quickly becoming overwhelmed with sensation and tumbled backwards onto the bed. Expecting to hit old stitches, Stephen tensed a little but found the palm of the lord protecting him from texture of the sheets.

“I’ve got you.” Tony whispered with a smile and ran his slick palm along the mark and wound on his back. Stephen took Tony’s lips again and ran his fingers through soft brown hair. Their kiss was deep and messy, drunk with lust and alcohol. The hunter moved down Tony’s neck to his collarbone and bit gently and his hands grabbed a fistful of ass under the lord’s linens. Tony hummed, vibrating on Stephen’s lips as he unconsciously ground into older man. The witch was desperately hard and the touch through the fabric made him whine. Tony exposed himself in a hurry and pressed themselves between their stomachs. 

“Gods…” Stephen cried, the sensation so much and yet not enough. Tony grabbed the tincture and coated his hand again. He reached past linens to explore Stephen’s length with his palm, the bare skin contact sudden and threatening the hunter’s composure. Stephen sat himself up on his elbows and reached to touch Tony, but was denied when the younger man kissed him back down onto the bed.

Tony pushed Stephen’s fabrics aside and gave an experimental pump of their cocks in unison. He swallowed the older man’s surprised cry but paused so Stephen could catch his breath. Once still for too long, the hunter grabbed Tony’s ass to ground upward into their connection. As Tony built his pace, Stephen clung to Tony for dear life, the young lord’s pace was furious. Pressure was building in his abdomen at rate he hadn’t felt in years.

“Stephen…” Tony emitted such a weak sound, both vulnerable and endearing. Stephen caught the lord’s eyes on him with _ that look _ and and his release was torn from him, his seed coating Tony’s fingertips. Dull nails left their mark on sunkissed skin while Stephen rode out his orgasm. The younger man’s release came not soon after, contributing to the mess. They collapsed wordlessly but half of them still hung off the bed. They opted to wipe themselves with the rough sheets and slept on the bedroll on the floor.


	6. Whiplash on horseback

“WAKE UP!” The pounding on the door was in time with the throbs of Stephen’s headache. The night’s sleep had been dreamless, which was odd. Pins and needles were screaming in his arm and...oh. Tony was asleep, head resting on the crook of his shoulder. The young lord looked peaceful and Stephen conversely became more anxious as he remembered how they got there. He was actively trying to fight the flutter in his chest which in turn increased his heart rate. 

Just then, the young lord woke and looked at the hunter serenely. 

“Good morning good sir.” Tony offered a content smile.

Stephen froze, waiting for something bad to happen. He didn’t know what, maybe a snap or for Tony to dart.

“Do witches sleep with their eyes open?” He asked blankly.

Stephen deflated, mildly confused.

“No, good morning to you too.” He offered woodenly.

“This feeling better?” Tony traced the familiar markings on Stephen’s chest.

“Yes, much.” The older man finally smiled. “Will need to make more of the tincture.”

“Is that stuff magic?” Tony sat up quickly, showing no signs of drinking the night before. “It must be, right? No way it could just be oil. Did I just use magic on my dick?”

_ Oh to be _ ** _that_ ** _ young again _ Stephen thought.

“I’m coming in there if you don’t respond!” Natasha’s familiar tone came through the other side of the door. Stephen recoiled at the volume. 

“Just a moment dear! Start breakfast without us!” Tony covered Stephen’s ears as he yelled a reply.

“It’s nearly midday you idiot!” Natasha blasted back.

Both men glanced at each other in a stifled panic and scrambled to get dressed.

Natasha sent them off and had been instructed by Stephen how to depower the blood circles in the forest before nightfall. Now fully invested in the return of a demon avatar, Stephen rode home with Tony to investigate. Because they had lost the second horse, Stephen and Tony were left to make the half day’s trek on the single remaining animal. Stephen required that he steer and Tony was left sitting behind the hunter. They traveled for some time in an uncharacteristic silence. 

Stephen wasn’t sure of what to say. What had transpired between them wasn’t anything new to him between other people. He was a witch after all, being naked in the woods facilitated casual engagements, if that is what this was. But something about their time together left him feeling warm and raw which gave way to nervousness. Didn’t the maid say Tony was prone to such interests in other people? He felt they should probably discuss it. Several times he opened his mouth to start a sentence, but nothing of note seemed to come out. It wasn’t until he felt the other fidgeting with something behind him that he broke the silence.

“You’re going to have to hang on to me. The saddle wasn’t made for this type of travel.” 

“Well if you insist.” Tony crooned, enthusiastically throwing his arms around the witch’s waist. He poked around the side to get into Stephen’s view. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to come back with me.”

“You know why I am.” 

“Curses and occult aside.” Tony replied with a smile.

“Tony, I’m returning because I’m concerned that your family may be tangled up with demons.” Stephen explained, annoyance bubbling up but quelling much easier. “Do you recall anything weird about your father?”

“There isn’t anything to recall there. He sent me away a lot and when I returned, well, he died.” Tony seemed a little distant. “We didn’t talk much and I don’t really feel any sort of way about that.”

Stephen felt a pang of sadness as well, the paternal distance echoing his own. He also felt like he would have choice words for the late lord Stark, fist-shaped words. 

“I just find it a little alarming that there is a demon energy activated trap embedded in your family crest.” Stephen tried to state with empathy. Tony didn’t respond to that remark. He gave Stephen a tighter squeeze and buried his head in the red cloak, an action that the hunter interpreted as concern. He offered a gentle pat on the lord’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Some time passed and Tony hadn’t extricated himself from the hunter’s side. Stephen wasn’t quite sure if it was related to his supposition of demon interference or the happenings of the previous night. 

“Stephen?” Tony finally managed. Stephen looked back and caught an expectant look from the younger man.

“Yes?” Stephen said with a swallow.

“There’s a lot of bad occult out there. Is there any chance that someone would be fighting on our side, beyond the veil?”

Tony’s tone was so earnest it caused a flutter in the hunter’s chest. He remembered posing a similar question to Jacob as a young child and was met with laughter. This slight was later repaired by the old hunter suggesting that nothing should be ruled out in their line of work. Now presented with an opportunity to choose his words carefully, Stephen faced forward to think. 

“I...well.” Stephen muttered, so much for thinking. “It’s just that in all of my travels and experiences, nothing has led me to believe that we have any powerful allies against our adversaries. But that doesn’t mean I should write off the possibility entirely.” He looked back at the young lord to seemed lost in the ontological query. “I think we have to operate like we’re all we have right now, until proven wrong.” He offered Tony a smile. This was returned with warmth and fervor.

“Yea, we’ve got this.” Tony punctuated.

Despite it being past midday, the sun was still trying to cut through the morning fog. It reminded Stephen of his travels with Jacob while they trailed the witches. He felt a sense of familiarity he couldn’t quite place despite him having an entirely new companion. 

“Does that mean that you’ve met powerful monsters?” Tony asked suddenly. “You said no allies, but it sounds like you’ve danced with a few enemies.”

“I wouldn’t call them all enemies.” Stephen pondered. “I would consider them more neutral. Entities would be the fair word.” The hunter reminisced and tried to think of a few examples, nothing really would translate succinctly. “Impartial, but for a fair price, you can get a favor from them. Older entities prefer you communicate in rhyme, which makes for an...ambiguous conversation.”

“That sounds, tedious indeed.” Tony remarked. “What if you can’t rhyme?”

“Just don’t find yourself talking about ‘oranges’ with strange entities.” Stephen smiled.

Tony laughed but quieted while processing information.

“Price?” The young lord pondered meekly.

“Yea,” Stephen said sadly. “The usual, souls, first born, maybe a task they can’t accomplish on this realm by themselves.” He wrung his hands in memory and found a query of his own. “How did you make it out of the cellar and onto the second floor yesterday?”

“Aren’t I allowed my tricks?” Tony offered him a toothy grin. “In honesty, both houses I’ve lived in have secret tunnels all over the place. I used to find them all and make a few..._ improvements _ as a child.”

They caught sight of the not haunted Stark manor on the horizon. Stephen heard Tony’s deep sigh at their nearing destination and was partially startled at the feeling of the lord’s hands pressing into the spaces of his shirt.

“I enjoyed our _ other _adventures last night too.” Tony crooned into the witch’s ear, making Stephen shudder. “The sheets at home are much softer.”

Stephen was getting whiplash from the naive glances Tony would offer and the confident Lord Stark. He opted to brush the younger man’s hand away gently.

“As fun as that would be,” Stephen chided. “Tonight would be the best time to gather information, when the Veil is thinnest.”

Tony withdrew his hands and sat bolt upright with excitement.

“Do you really think we’ll encounter anything? At the manor itself?”

“With the way things have been going these past few days...” Stephen reasoned, but found Tony’s complete lack of self-preservation unnerving.

“I need to get to my laboratory!” Tony exclaimed, nearly vibrating with glee. “What do you think you’ll need?”

“You won’t like it.” The hunter continued to guide their horse. “I need any information or belongings from your father.”

“Ugh, he’s not even haunting me in an interesting way.” Tony groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* The title drop!


	7. Of marks and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A super spooky chapter up in time for Halloween! Thank you for following along with me!

Tony and Stephen entered the manor as quietly as possible, much like children sneaking in past curfew despite it being only the afternoon. Such precautions were futile as a familiar voice called from the top of the stairs. There was a rustle of petticoats as a woman headed toward them.

“Anthony dear?” 

Tony grabbed the hunter’s hand and darted faster for the laboratory.

“Don’t ignore me!” The lord’s mother called out making him freeze.

“Hello mother.” He replied through grit teeth as she headed down the stairs.

“I really do wish you were here for your duties,” She breezed past the pair, leaving the scent of power in her wake, and stood in front of Tony. “A meeting with General Fury is scheduled for tomorrow and we need to maintain ties to stay afloat.” She paused to stare daggers at where their hands connected.

“Mother, people are DYING outside. We don’t have time for things like that.” Tony snapped, shirking formality and composure.

“Excuse me-”

“No! I have seen the undead crawling about and attacking innocent people, ghosts in the old manor of people you never told me we lost, and an avatar of a demon threaten my friend’s life!”

Tony’s mother froze, for once it appeared she had a reaction to the  _ insane _ amount of occult occurring around her.

“Don’t you speak of demons in this house!” She snapped, her tone shattering from composed to mild alarm. Stephen was intrigued and concerned. He didn’t want to be right, but such a reaction was indicative of his suspicions. Suddenly the woman swatted at their hands to separate them and shook a finger at the hunter. “It’s your fault, putting the idea of demons in my child’s head.” She stood upright forcing Stephen back a little. “I’ve worked to build a house free of such horrors and you dare come here-”

“Mother he has nothing to do with-”

“We were fine until he showed up!” She spoke sternly at her son, but held his hand very gently. “All I was doing was to protect you.”

“I’ve been fighting the occult for several weeks, you’re delusional to think we’ve had a peaceful month!” He took his hand from her. “What has gotten into you?”

“I came to think a bout or two with a vampire was the norm here.” She muttered distantly and her hands were shaking. “Not connected…”

“My lady, what are you trying to tell us?” Stephen tried to comfort her with a gentle tone.

“Get back, whatever you are!” She spat which led Tony to stand between his mother and the hunter. “Poisoning my son, taking away our life!”

“What in god’s name are you talking about mother?! Get a hold of yourself!”

Tony hoped that making eye contact would calm his mother, but to no avail. She looked at him and started to cry, collapsing onto her knees in defeat. Her hands went to her fine dress and she tore a piece of it off in disgust. The maid came in to inspect the source of commotion but was motioned to remain away by Tony. The young lord then knelt on the floor to speak with his mother. 

“Please,” He said gently. “I just want to know what is going on.”

With a heavy sigh and while still looking at the floor, his mother replied in a broken voice.

“The study, an indigo box. I can say no more.”

Stephen watched as Tony tried to coax anything more from his mother, but she remained despondent. Tony allowed to maid to come near and tend to the woman of the house. Backing away, Stephen was lost in thought and tried to give the family some space. He was led by another servant to the kitchen so he could keep warm by the stove. There was a lot of shuffling at the front of the house and the sound of something large coming down the stairs. The witch ignored it all and opted to stare into the flickering light as the dusk light moved across the sky. 

A little while later, Tony entered the kitchen.

“Well, that was something.” Tony remarked and moved to stand next to the hunter, gaze focusing apathetically at the dying embers. “She’s very distraught and General Fury agreed to accept her since she will need to be there tomorrow. Army grade ravens.” 

“Are you alright?” Stephen asked with misplaced guilt, still focusing on the stove.

“It was odd, but it was something to lead us in the right direction.” Tony looked at the older man expectantly. Stephen couldn’t bring himself to face the young lord. Everything seemed ominous and, despite the claims of the mother being untrue, he felt very responsible. When he did finally turn, Tony did look tired silhouetted by the dusk sun. The lord forced a smile and placed his hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

As night fell, Stephen felt Tony’s demeanor was a little off. He unsuccessfully tried to get the lord to speak about it, but that created more simmering agitation. Despite this, Tony requested that Stephen go with him to inspect the study his mother had mentioned. He agreed and let the lord lead the way. It looked the same, only it had been made up and cleaned by the help. Tucked inconspicuously in a corner was a roll top writing desk made of dark mahogany. Quicker than Stephen could anticipate, Tony suddenly darted at the desk and pried at the lid in a fury.

“Fuck!” The lid was very locked and Tony was building in frustration.

“Let’s just take a moment to-” Stephen started, confused with the sudden burst of movement.

“No!” Tony wrestled with the offending furniture with shaking hands.

“Tony come on,” Stephen tried to offer in a gentle voice. “Look at me, breathe.” He took the younger man’s hands in his and forced his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?!” Tony could feel himself getting riled up again, but followed the hunter’s steady breaths. “It’s one thing to study something that you aren’t involved in! But to find that something you don’t know, that you don’t understand is apparently a larger part of your life?!”

It was a look that Stephen didn’t like on the young lord. That his own naivete was threatening his understanding of reality as he knew it. He felt the weight of guilt settle in his stomach at the young lord’s panic.

“It is terrible, I know.” Stephen said steadily, still modeling calm for Tony. “But you aren’t alone okay? This is why I came back with you. I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.” 

Tony seemed to calm for a moment. He glanced at his hands in the hunter’s and felt a sense of peace wash over him. With a deep breath, the young lord looked at the lid of the desk and took out a bolt from his repeater. He jammed the tip through the locking mechanism and sat with a triumphant look at Stephen.

“I thought you liked craftsmanship.” Stephen sighed.

With the lid out of the way, there were still several drawers within the desk to search. There were several papers in the way with unfamiliar scrawl according to Tony. He put the papers aside without thought. Stephen noticed that Tony and his father demonstrated the same frenetic writing style. At long last, they found a small indigo box. The color a stark contrast to the wood of the desk. A small lacquered specimen that Tony held gently. He moved to open the box, but Stephen stopped him.

“Just let me see if it’s safe.” The hunter cautioned, producing a bundle of sage that seemed to light itself.

“Astounding.” Tony remarked at the display with mouth agape.

Stephen was amused with the reaction, so different from the fear he usually was met with. Once findings indicated the box and its contents were free of peril, Tony opened it and revealed a letter seal with the family crest, at one end was a pointed edge. The hunter recognized its use and shut the box again, plucking a blank paper from the desk and the whole item from the young lord’s hands.

“Wait! Where are you-”

“Aside from your laboratory, is there a cellar of some sort?” Stephen was walking quickly out of the room.

“Probably the wine cellar,” Tony sprinted past. “I can lead us.” He grabbed the hunter’s wrist again and led him down the stairs and through darkened stone corridors. Stephen glanced back at the hand on his wrist and felt the butterflies and lead brick fight each other in his stomach. Continuing down through darkened wood door, it was as he expected. The cellar was dark and damp, requiring Tony to light hanging lanterns placed intermittently along the walls. The dim light was cast on several barrels on the first level and a wine press on the second level. Wine stains littered the walls and supports, but a large clearing in the center was free of any signs of moisture.

Stephen sifted through his coins and fished out a specific sigil that looked like it was made of pure gold. Tony loomed behind him trying to get a good look at the coin, but the hunter quickly placed it in the dry center of the room. He then opened the indigo box and removed the seal, holding it gently by the handle. Tony had calmed down from his frustration earlier, now giddy with anticipation for what Stephen was about to do. The hunter walked toward the lord, who beamed with the hope of being able to participate.

“I’m sorry about this.” Stephen offered guiltily, feeling he was about to betray Tony’s excitement. He requested Tony’s hand with his own.

“Whatever for?” The lord replied warmly, placing his hand in the hunter’s.

“This.” Stephen took hold of the pad of Tony’s thumb and pushed a sharp edge of the seal into the flesh. It was a shallow wound, but it offered a fair coating of blood on the seal. Tony quickly withdrew his hand and looked back at the hunter with shock but it did not detract from his mirth.

“My blood?” Tony asked more out of curiosity than incredulousness. 

“You are the lord of the manor, are you not?” Stephen said in a low baritone and a smirk making Tony puff in pride. The hunter then pressed the seal onto a blank piece of paper and placed the paper on top of the gold coin. As Tony’s blood bled into the paper, there was an eruption as white light burned a mandala into the stone floor. The room seemed to quake as the paper in the center burned a dark purple flame. Tony looked at Stephen with concern, but Stephen looked upon the commotion with disdain.

The dark flame grew taller, threatening the lick the ceiling. Upon further inspection, Tony realized the flame had a translucent quality and he feared only slightly less for the structure of the manor. The flames began to coalesce and the vague image of a woman, pulsing with energy, came into view. She stood before them, glancing around in confusion, finding she couldn’t move much. Eyes that shown with the brightness of stars fell upon Stephen and the energy of the room pulsed as she snarled.

“Umar?” Stephen queried, mildly confused.

“Interesting. The stolen witch child.” The figure replied, her voice initially sounded like several voices and slowly merged into a single tone as she finished her sentence. “This isn’t where I expected to see you.”

“I was forced to detour from the Altar of the Endless because I ran into Kaecilius.” The hunter spat, now folding his arms in irritation. “Now I see that would have been a trap.”

The dark figure snickered and quickly turned her attention away from Stephen.

“How rude of me, good evening to you young lord.” Her voice suddenly sounded like a song.

Tony was stunned to be addressed and felt the need to reply. He opened his mouth to say something flirtatious but was suddenly pushed backwards by Stephen, who placed his hand on the lord’s chest. Tony looked down and saw that he had tried to walk onto the runes on the floor, which would have disrupted the markings of the prison.

Umar hissed in irritation. 

“You may have wounded my brother, but I can still come for you!” She pulsed a dark energy through the room that hit both men. Stephen looked down and saw a familiar dark mark on his chest, the mark that his soul was forfeit due to the selfishness of a father he never knew. He was brought back from his reverie by the sounds of Tony mounting a scream. The hunter looked over and saw the same mark on the young lord’s chest. Tony stumbled backwards, trying to claw off the marking in a growing panic. 

“Wh-What is going on! What has she done to me?!” Tony cried out only to have his flailing arms again caught by the witch. “What has she done to us?!” The lord added, seeing the same marking on Stephen.

He glanced between himself and the man on the ground, too overcome with outright pain toward the younger man to explain.

Umar laughed gleefully behind them, briefly returning to her fiery state. Stephen released Tony and looked back at her.

“What have you done?!” He roared at the demon.

“Do you really think you’re the only mortal involved in a demonic deal?”

“I defeated Dormammu!”

“On your plane of existence, sure.” Umar shrugged nonchalantly. “So he came back here to rest. But that doesn’t mean that every demon down here stops working.”

“But I’ve done nothing! What good is my soul to a demon?” Tony suddenly chimed in.

“Hush child, the adults are talking.” Umar snapped, in a complete reversal of her previous tone. She literally waved Tony away in a gust that pushed him through the entrance of the cellar. Stephen ran after him, but found that she had magically sealed the door. 

“I’m fine now! I’ll find a way around, secret tunnels remember?” He spoke loud enough for Stephen to hear.

This left Stephen alone with Umar while Tony hopefully found another way into the cellar.

“Much better.” Umar crossed her arms. 

“I don’t believe it.” Stephen needed to stall so Tony could get back. “Why would a lord of the land even need to make a demonic bargain?

“You’ve been on this plane for a while, haven’t you? Please regale me on what you’ve heard of the family known as ‘the Starks.’” Umar rolled her eyes at the name.

Stephen did think as best as he could. He recalled several families involved with the upkeep of the local military, like the Rogers family, and was vaguely aware of the Pyms who taught at the university. But try as he might, he realized that he couldn’t recall much history on the establishment of ‘the Starks.’

“Curious isn’t it. A family rising from obscurity to essentially rule a small country.” Umar hummed through the room. “Now that you’ve given it some thought, you understand that we can’t have an inconsistent reputation on collecting debts.” She looked at Stephen thoughtfully. “It is interesting that you were going to meet me, trap or not.”

“The hope would have been to wound you like your brother.” Stephen added sternly.

“Sure dear, but that didn’t mean the bait doesn’t exist.” A bright flame flickered in her hand and subsided, revealing a large silver coin. The imprint matched the same as the brands on his hands. “Ferryman’s Absolution, wasn’t it?”

Stephen nearly jumped at Umar but quickly remembered the notation on the ground. He bit back the waves of hope that crashed against his heart at the sight of the relic, settling on gripping his hands into tight fists and glaring menacingly.

“Now, I’d like to think that I’m more rational than my brother.” Umar continued, clearly unbothered by the look of fury on Stephen’s features. “We need at least one of you to say we’re collecting our debts. What say you to a trade?” A smile too wide for human features spread across Umar’s face. “Supply me the young lord and I’ll give you Absolution?”

Stephen grit his teeth and sucked in a breath.

“He’s not mine to trade.” He said quietly but Umar had heard.

“Yes, of course!” She added sarcastically. “Much like your soul was not your father’s to trade for the things he sought all his life.”

Suddenly Tony emerged on the second level of the cellar, which repeater at the ready.

“You can’t banish me from my own home, demon.” Tony spat with renewed vigor.

“How precious.” Umar crooned. “As much fun as it’s been, you’re keeping me from business on this fine winter solstice.” She turned to look at Stephen again. “Do think about our discussion, won’t you?” And with that the paper with the blood seal was consumed by the Undying flames of Umar, the marks dissipated from their chests, leaving the two men in a silent cellar.


	8. All we have

The two remained separated in different sleeping quarters in the manor. Tony felt Stephen’s mind racing and he lay in wait with his own troubling thoughts. Despite the hunter’s best efforts to reach out to him after the ordeal, the lord refused saying that news of his now forfeit soul left him wanting to be alone. That had been a lie.

In their encounter with Umar, Tony had gotten to the ledge of the cellar much earlier than he let on. He had heard Umar’s bargain, but barely heard Stephen’s reply. And now the lord sat conflicted, on the wooden floor of his room, agitated and confused. He realized that he barely knew his companion, only having met him a few days prior. But he thought he could trust the man, who had protected him and been forthright about his adventures. However, these demons seemed to know Stephen, seemed to think they could reason with him. 

And Tony desperately wanted to trust the hunter. He had trysts with many a partner in the past, but he could not help being helplessly drawn to the man in his house. Stephen had a quality that couldn’t be explained in books or research which terrified and exhilarated Tony. Despite their different worlds, Stephen had not written off his lab as a waste and pushed the lord to continue his mechanical work. He found himself yearning to know each mark on the hunter’s skin and its purpose. But he worried their moments together were just that, moments and nothing more.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of movement in the house. Creaks in the floorboards were coming toward his room. Tony felt a weight in the pit of his stomach. Had the witch decided that absolution was fair a trade of their companionship? The movement grew closer. The lord reached quickly under his bed and fished through a few contraptions he kept for safety. Despite the threat, he didn’t want to hurt Stephen. He opted for a small launcher equipt with a bola to tangle intruders. 

There was a familiar jingle of Stephen’s sack of sigils which halted his movements. Tony swallowed hard, fighting feelings of betrayal and disappointment while his heart hammered in his chest. He pointed his invention at the door. One step more, ever closer. Tony was fighting a tremor in his finger on the trigger of the device and trying not to yell. Then came a pause, silence that seemed to last a small eternity. Then nothing. Barely perceptible from the other side of the door was a deep sigh followed by footsteps bolting off at a sprint away from the door, down the stairs, and out of the manor. 

Tony sat confused, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He took a moment to gather himself and scrambled to fling open the door. He looked down the hallway to find no one and heard the sounds of the night through the open entryway. A wave of emotions washed over the lord, relief, disappointment, loneliness, and mostly confusion. He dashed down the stairs and looked outward, finding patches of grass on fire leading into the forest. There was no way that he was going to catch up to Stephen conventionally. He dashed over to a secure shed that he had built against the manor and uncovered a two wheeled cycle. Despite the dampness in the air, Tony had no trouble igniting his miniature steam engine. The vehicle gave a sputter in defiance, but the motor found its rhythm. Once adequately protected and tucking the bola launcher away, he mounted the vehicle and rode into the night.

Tony knew these woods well and found shortcuts to catch up with the witch’s path. It wasn’t long until he could see a figure in the distance making the fiery tracks in the ground for Tony had tested his invention against his own horses. However, the nature of Stephen’s travel was still something to behold. The witch was riding bareback on top of a dark horse, the mane and tail were bright and hypnotizing flames of crimson and gold. The eyes of the steed burned like embers in the night. Despite the fire, Stephen rode on top of the animal without damage to his clothes or skin. The witch held tight to a tricorne to protect himself against the wind, Tony found his cloak oddly absent. The lord pulled up alongside the beast and its rider into Stephen’s view.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Stephen called out against the wind.

“That would be more appropriate to ask you!” Tony motioned at the horse. 

“Fucking go back you gigantic idiot!” There was a familiar crackle as Stephen’s whip roared to life.

“Not without you!” Tony steadied his grip on the steering controls and readied his bola contraption. 

As if sharing the same thought, both men fired at one another at the same time with apparent intention to disarm. Stephen’s whip cut through the steam engine that was exposed on the side of the bike, causing Tony to veer a little but just come to a halt. The bola fired at Stephen’s horse, but found nothing but fire as steed dissipated into the familiar red cloak. This got wrapped up in its rider, but helped with the impact and momentum as he hit the ground. Both men stood up panting for a brief moment before resuming their yelling match.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Stephen was able to get out first, putting the cloak back on his shoulders. “Why on earth would you follow me?”

“Why were you leaving?” Tony replied with no answer to the previous questions. “I heard what Umar offered you which makes this all the more confusing.”

“You heard? And you are still tracking me down?” Stephen looked more stunned than angry, but that quickly subsided. “You idiot! You shouldn’t be this far from the manor! She’s going to get you!”

“What happened to ‘we should act like we’re all we have’, Stephen?” Tony was now close enough to point into the chest of the taller man. “I said I would help you.”

“You heard right?” Stephen said with a mild panic. “She wanted me to trade your soul for the absolution relic. Did you really want to trade in for me?”

“No of course not.” Tony threw his arms. “But between you and me, I bet we could think of something to take her down.”

Stephen shifted, suddenly looking away in shame. He tugged the cloak tighter, as if the hide himself. 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about bringing you to her.” The witch backed away from Tony. “I’d been searching for so long, gods when I saw it with my own eyes.” Stephen looked up at the sky, eyes glistening. “But I told her you aren’t mine to trade, so help me, I am not my father!” He kicked at the dirt on the ground sending grass flying.

“I don’t blame you for entertaining the idea.” Tony said quietly. “It really does seem like the only answer when you think about it.” He absently rubbed his chest where he had seen the dark mark appear and looked back at Stephen. “But you injured a demon! If we take her down, that would at least buy us some time!”

“It wasn’t me that did it, Tony. It was Jacob! For as long as I have been alive, I’ve never been able to measure up to him. He was too great! I never even finished learning all I could from that hunter.” Stephen looked at the young lord, a tired hopelessness painted his features. Tony decided he didn’t like the look on the witch. The younger man grabbed Stephen by the shoulders and shook him.

“Jacob doesn’t have the knowledge you have now, or the experiences you’ve had!” Tony cupped the face of the hunter and forced grey eyes to meet his. “And he didn’t have me!” The lord planted a firm kiss on the lips of the hunter and pulled back quickly to reconnect their gaze. Stephen looked at him with an entirely blank expression. “I promised I’d help you, remember?”

“What on earth do you see in me that is worth helping?” Stephen asked quietly, taking the hands on his face into his.

“Because I want to!” Tony said plainly. “Yes, it would be great if my soul was my own again and we kill the demon and they never bother us again. But I’ve never felt like the destiny I’ve been living is my own. And since I met you, it just feels...right.” He rushed out his thoughts except for the last bit and looked back at the hunter. “So fine, even if our souls are forfeit, I’ll be damned if I don’t do what I want, at least in this lifetime. And I want to be around you, if you want me to be around too.”

“Being around me just means that you are more likely to get killed.” Stephen replied dejectedly.

“I know I’m going to die doing what I like, be it by your side or on one of my other motorbikes.” Tony said indignantly.

Stephen paused in thought, the hands of the younger man still on his face. He removed them, but didn’t let go. He didn’t have the courage to even entertain cautious hope, but grew wistful at the idea of companionship, unsure if, even in 100 years, he ever experienced it truly. The fluttering feeling in his stomach refused to subside even after Tony had kissed him. Finally he smiled. 

“Let’s go back and get through tomorrow before discussing other adventures.”

Tony looked hopeful, the smile on the hunter’s features was such a rare sight he couldn’t help but return the look. “Together?”

“Together.” The witch replied, offering a small peck on the younger man’s forehead.

They both looked the direction they had come from. Tony looked sadly at the bike, which broke in half under the weight of their gaze. The patches of burning grass had gone out in the damp night. Stephen removed his cloak in a beautiful flourish and a threaded symbol ignited. He threw the cloak away from him and the shape of his fiery steed hit the ground. Tony was in utter awe at the motion and result. Stephen quickly mounted the horse and reached out to Tony. 

“Come on then.” Stephen offered warmly.


	9. Demands of a lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! I'm sorry! Life got busy, but happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

When they returned to the manor, Tony took Stephen by the hand and led him to the room he had been sitting before they traveled outside. Compared to the guest room, Tony’s space was rather minimal. It held the bare necessities of dressing and sleeping for the lord. He moved to put his bola launcher back under the bed earning a tut of recognition from Stephen.

“You just have gadgets stashed all over the house then?” 

“What good would they be in only one place.” Tony beamed while unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Good to know you’re adequate at keeping yourself safe then.” Stephen took a beat and locked eyes with the man knelt on the floor. “I...know how to find the other room-”

“You can’t be serious.” Tony grabbed the hunter’s hand before he could turn around. “We might die tomorrow and you think I’m going to let you spend a night away from me?”

Stephen looked stunned. He felt like his own astral projection would call him dense right now. He ran his hand through his hair.

“You know, we never really...talked about that.”

Tony got up and commanded the gaze of the grey eyes darting around the room. 

“I want to be with you,” He said softly. “In all ways you’ll have me, I meant that. It all just feels right.” He tried not to look hurt in his vulnerable state but Stephen still looked very stunned. “How do you feel about me?”

Again, Stephen was confronted with that earnestness that was so against the current norms. Never having been one to be clear about his feelings, he grappled with the idea of someone throwing themselves at him. It happened on occasion, someone curious about the strange outsider that they would never see again, or out in the forests, others caught up in magick and convenience. But this felt so different, like terror and glee. He gently brushed Tony’s face with his fingertips and remembered how he wanted to protect that earnest expression, the joyful naivete, and just have him around.

“If you’ll really have an old witch covered in ink.” Stephen replied. “I think you could do so much better tho-”

Tony refused to let him finish and kissed his hunter deeply. With a freeing validation, Stephen returned the gesture sweetly. Only a moment ago did he think such touch forfeit when he galloped away only to be pursued and brought home. He decided that ‘home’ had a lovely ring to it. Stephen’s lips moved gingerly against the other’s, but the lord tugged the hunter down by his lapels to command more closeness. Despite the startle, Stephen did not pull away but offered a tender hum in response, allowing Tony’s tongue to push past his lips and occupy his mouth like a wave over the shore. The brunette pulled away, a hungry look painted his features. Stephen offered a kiss drunk smile in return. Not aiming to be too rough, Tony led his hunter to the bed, letting the edge take out Stephen’s knees. He stumbled onto the softer sheets and felt the lord’s grasp guide him slowly down.

“I’ve got you.” Tony hummed as he crawled alongside the taller man.

“I know.” The other replied with a smile.

Tony nestled himself onto the toned body on the bed and reconnected at the lips. His kiss was possessive and his hands went for the buttons of the linen shirt. Stephen replied in kind, helping divest the other man of his garments and to ran his hands along sunkissed skin. With Stephen’s chest exposed again, Tony drank in the sight of the tattoos and marking on the older man. He moved his kisses along newly exposed neck and collarbone, moving slowly southward. Oddly enough there was a section of blank skin along Stephen’s left pelvic bone. The lord sucked a dark mark on it while undoing the buttons of the hunter’s trousers to expose a straining cock. Stephen was sitting up and couldn’t help the small giggle at the gesture. This quickly turned into a gasp as Tony’s tongue found sensitive flesh. 

The softer sheets meant nothing as Stephen balled them in his fists and the young lord’s lips curiously explored the hunter’s length. Despite the haze of lust, Tony’s expression still held curiosity and naivete. He didn’t want to influence the inventor’s experience. After a careful inspection with his tongue, Tony sucked down the whole of Stephen’s length. 

“Tony!” The exclamation slipped past his lips after trying to remain composed through the lord’s exploration. Tony bobbed with an energetic rhythm, seemingly fueled by the new sounds coming from Stephen. Tattooed abs grew tense as the witch fought the desire to buck up into warm heat. The young lord was relentless, feeling the build in his own trousers. There was a threatening twitch from Stephen’s cock and Tony pulled off leaving the other again to gaze blearily at his partner.

“Sorry, I need you.” Tony crawled up and kissed the dazed hunter but seemed distracted as to what he should be doing next. Stephen reached into his pocket before fully kicking off his trousers, to reveal the last of the soothing tincture.

“I’ve got you.” He winked before liberally covering his finger in the familiar substance. Tony smiled and his trousers joined Stephen’s on the floor. The lord lay back on his familiar bed with lust and trepidation, fully exposed to the older man. The witch sensed this nervousness and gave some pause.

“Are you sure?” Came a kind query.

“It’s not my first time if that’s what your asking.” Tony quipped a little indignantly. “Well, maybe in a while.”

Regardless, Stephen resolved to be gentle with the lord. He kissed the toned expanse of Tony’s chest and gently pressed an oiled digit against tight space. Tony went tight against the sheets, fighting sensation and reaction.

“Just breathe easy for me.” He said sweetly against Tony’s stomach as the man beneath him drew a breath. On the exhale, Stephen pressed past tight muscles and into the lord.

Above him, the younger man hissed and fought back the urge to squeeze and Stephen moved around and withdrew gently. When unsteady breathing grew into needy panting, he pressed two digits inside to scissor and stretch Tony’s limits. At a particular angle, Tony cried out in bliss and pulled Stephen’s face to his in a crushing kiss. Pleased with the response, the witch continued to massage at the spot, enjoying the mild bite of nails into the back of his neck. 

“Need...you.” Tony mustered to look at the intent gaze upon him, cock leaking and bobbing against his bare stomach. Stephen gave the younger man a peck on the lips and quickly aligned himself with Tony. Using the last of the tincture on his member, the witch threw the bottle onto the floor and pushed gently into the lord. Tony reveled in slowly taking the hunter into him. He was only momentarily distracted by faint glow of an emblem on Stephen’s side. 

“In case you’re in pain.” Stephen explained.

“But that’s part of it all.” Tony muttered as he pushed to take in more of the other’s length. 

With this urging, the light died out and Stephen pushed gently to the hilt, earning a contented sigh from the younger man. After a moment of pause, Stephen shifted to build up a steady pace. The space of the once quiet room was then filled with their carnal cries for closeness. Stephen reached for the headboard to steady himself and Tony arched back flexibly. At this new angle, he could feel the familiar build in his stomach and he cried out to hold tight to the hunter. 

“Stephen…” He whispered between gasps. The man above started to stroke Tony’s cock in time with his thrusts and sloppily kissed him again. The lord’s body seized, threateningly close to the edge. 

“Come for me Tony.” Stephen’s possessive baritone was the last push and Tony’s limbs went taut in orgasm. The sight quickly affected the hunter as his final thrusts in tight heat gave him release. 

Finally able to enjoy the comfort of the bed, both men collapsed against the soft sheets. Stephen pulled Tony close to him and nuzzled into mussed brown hair. Contented and staving off sleep, Tony absently traced the designs along the hunter’s arms. With eyes closed and alertness fading, Stephen still felt the gentle touch on his skin.

“You wanting one?” He mumbled warmly.

“You pick.” Tony replied.

“A shielding spell,” He lifted his arm and tapped the center of Tony’s chest. “Here, to keep you safe.”

The lord decided he liked that very much and slipped into sleep.


	10. A plan

Stephen woke to the gentle touch of Tony’s fingers on his skin, still tracing designs where possible. He tried to blink the sleep from his eyes and offered the other man confused smile.

“Careful you don’t activate them.” Stephen joked, but Tony pulled his hands away slightly.

“I could do that?”

“Wasn’t serious my dear lord.” The hunter replied, the stunned expression on Tony’s face was not lost on him. Stephen quickly pecked the other on the cheek and got out of bed, despite Tony’s sounds of protest.  “The moment I know we aren’t hunted by demons, the more time we will have to lay around in bed.” Stephen said while he put on his clothes.

Tony’s shoulders sagged acknowledging the danger they were in. Despite the calm of the morning, he knew the day would be dedicated to battling Umar. His brow furrowed as he assessed possibilities, schematics flashing in his vision, and mentally cycled through his reagent inventory. He was suddenly startled when whiskers tickled his forehead and a light kiss soon followed.  Warmth washed over Tony and relaxed his shoulders. Yea, he wasn’t alone in this plan. 

\---

The maid was the only other person in the house, who had no difficulty preparing and taking food to the lively pair in the laboratory. Stephen threw papers about at the same pace as the young lord. Familiar with the frenetic pace, Tony dashed around the laboratory moving from fletchery, metal work, and drawing schematics. Stephen largely sat at the table buried in books while carefully writing along the shafts of his remaining arrows. At one point in the mid morning, the two butt heads discussing the involvement of the Widow of the Wood and House Barton. Stephen thought Natasha would be a great contribution while Tony ensured that the distance could keep Barton safe. Neither wanted to truly involve collateral damage.

It was at this point the maid placed tea and small sandwiches between the two men who offered their thanks. The pause in the discussion was halted by thoughtful munching. 

“They are both very capable.” Tony muttered.

“Indeed, but this is our problem.” Stephen offered, knowing that would be the most ideal. “You wanted to protect those under you.”

As if the lightning from the previous night struck, both men glanced at each other with a similar understanding.

“How many do you have left?” Tony called as he dashed over to the coals of the furnace.

Stephen quickly emptied his satchel, the various coin-like sigils spilled onto the wooden table in the middle of the lab. Among the iron and gold, he picked up only four silver in his hand with a grimace. “Not many.”

“Will a large one work from above?” Tony carefully prepared a ladle against the heat of the coals.

“Yes, it should.” Stephen remarked, hope brightening his demeanor. And he threw the last four silver coins into the ladle.

The maid, who had chosen not to leave until at least witnessed the two eat, wore a bemused expression of the unknown language between the two men. Once they again sprang to action, she left the room with the tray, but ensured that the tea kettle remain. 

Stephen worked quickly, hammering the small silver ingot to shape he needed. Tony spoke up as he noticed where the sun hung in the sky. A moment of respite was called for in addition to the time needed to travel to the Altar of the Endless. The hunter quickly quenched his work and looked around the room. His grey eyes were weary, but determined when he met Tony’s face. He again felt the protective warmth blossom in his chest fighting the dread of failure.

“Hey.” Tony rose and held the man’s face in his hands. “We are doing our best. I know it is because I am doing it with you.”


	11. The Price of Absolution

As the sun set, the pair rode through the forest on the familiar blazing steed. Despite governing the area, Tony was surprised to find their ride slowing to a knoll on the outskirts of his lands. The Altar of the Endless had been right under his nose! They dismounted before a pair of stone doors tucked inconspicuously into the side of the hill. Carved into the doors was a large mandala, the center of which Stephen placed his forehead and muttered. A blue pulse from the contact illuminated outward, igniting the markings, and the doors swung open.

“What if you didn’t reach the center?” Tony commented as he walked past the doors, finding his own forehead would not have reached.

“I would have given you a boost.” Stephen smirked as he walked inside. Tony huffed at the response and instead clutched his repeater. 

Torches ignited on their own accord along the walls, the flickering light cascading along the edge of a descending staircase into the earth. Stephen looked at the path ahead and glanced back at his companion. There was a tightness in his chest as he fought back a desire to send the young lord home. He knew voicing this would be futile. Tony caught his gaze and reached out a free hand toward the hunter.

“Age before beauty?” He quipped with a smile.

Stephen took the outstretched hand and kissed a knuckle before proceeding down into the staircase, reveling in the blush that dusted Tony’s face at the reaction.

“Luckily I have both.” The hunter mused and continued along the corridor.

They descended together, the smell not unlike the damp cold of Tony’s cellar and the light of the torches unwavered despite the lack of flowing air. Their boots tapped along the exposed stone steps as they descended ever further. At long last, a large room unfolded before them. Towering slabs of faded sandstone littered the space and another mosaic of various simple stones was laden in the ground, drawing their eyes to a granite altar in the center. Admiration of the surroundings was cut short by a familiar chorus of voices.

“You are either late or incredibly foolish.” Otherworldly flames erupted from the earth and manifested Umar, fully and corporeally into the current plane. Her eyes still shone like stars and her violet hair fell gently around her horns. Stephen couldn’t help the tremor of apprehension at the sight of the demon. 

“Come to bargain?” Umar nearly hissed, her voice now singular as she slid the familiar coin, the Ferryman’s Absolution, along the granite altar. She ensured it reflected some light into the eyes of her guests. 

“The time for bargaining,” Stephen knocked two runed arrows on his grasp.

“Is over.” Tony aimed his repeater.

“How absolutely barbaric.” Umar chided as at least ten undead crawled out of the earth above them and landed by the altar. Instead of shambling, they dashed at the two men. This caused the two to split to avoid onslaught. Tony quickly fired at the heads of three and dashed off to find cover behind one of the slabs.

After releasing arrows at a pair of corpses, Stephen held a sigil in his knuckles and blew through the holes creating a bright green flame that took out the rest of the first wave. He also found a slab opposite Tony for cover. More undead found their way through the ceiling, a few landing in front of the lord created distance between himself and attackers. As the mindless corpses closed in, Tony held out his palm to reveal a gas line in his sleeve that ignited, releasing a burst of flame. This easily took out the few that had him pinned and several more as he maintained the stream. 

Umar groaned, grasping the granite altar for support. Summoning the limited remainder of corpses in the land and the destruction of the effigies in the woods seemed to take their toll on her strength in the corporeal plane. Stephen had the upper hand among the undead he was fighting and summoned his whip to strike Umar’s neck. There was a crack as it connected with the demon. She gripped the flickering whip and howled in irritation. Thinking this was an opening, Tony readied one of his silver bolts at Umar’s head. 

The demon squirmed and Stephen was losing against the few corpses that remained. Before Tony could fire, Umar dug her teeth into the whip and tore it to pieces. This sent a shockwave through the room. Stephen, who was closest, was sent backwards, with nothing to grasp and steady himself. Umar leapt so that she was straddling the hunter.

“I hate that spell the most, you wretched witch!” She spat at her prey and dug her claws deep into Stephen’s chest and disrupting the needed sigil. Stephen cried out as she twisted her claws deeper and tried to fight back. Suddenly a bolt bore into her back and she yelled furiously. She stood up to full height, leaving Stephen to clutch his wound. 

“I will deal with you myself.” Umar manifested a large claymore, imbued with dark energy, and swung it toward Tony. This missed him by inches as he stumbled backwards. He responded by trying to launch the familiar bola at her, which only dissipated into flames before touching her body. She hefted a horizontal swing in response as he ducked under the granite altar. 

Stephen tried to manage his bleeding and conjure up with another weapon, but the pain made it hard to focus. Fear gripped him as he saw where Tony was headed.

“Tony, no!” Stephen called out through grit teeth, trying to sit up.

“No, I can do this.” Tony hollered back in reply.

“Witch I will break your precious human toy!” Umar gleefully readied herself for a another strike with the claymore.

Tony kicked the altar, knocking the Absolution relic onto the floor by Stephen. However this left Tony exposed on the floor, facing the oncoming claymore strike with only his repeater ready.

“Now!” Came the lord’s command. Stephen flung their fabricated silver emblem above Tony’s aim. A bolt released, catching the emblem and securing it to the ceiling, above Umar. As the silver made contact with the earth above, the same white flame from the cellar burned a binding rune, trapping the demon. The perimeter of the rune began to draw itself slowly inward around Umar.

Tony scuttled and stumbled from his awkward position to create some distance between himself and the demon. Stephen, now upright scrambled to reach the lord. With berserk speed and rage, Umar swung the claymore effortlessly at her captor. Seeing this, the hunter crushed a wooden sigil in his hand and flung the remains at her eyes. On contact they exploded in bright yellow shards. But it was too late, her blade only needed gravity to complete it’s trajectory. Stephen’s hands connected with Tony’s and he grasped and tugged as quickly as he could, but the weapon came down into the lord’s midsection. 

“No!” Stephen screamed.

His own cries dwarfed the cries of rage and burning from Umar in the distance. The binding circle oppressive, crushing ever inward. The silver flame seared her corporeal form and she was forced to leave this plane.

“No, no no!” Stephen knelt hovering over Tony, who was now pinned to the floor. “That wasn’t the plan! I didn’t need it, I just need you.”

“Heh, I can be pretty cocky.” Tony reached up to caress his weeping hunter’s cheek. “But I want to give you everything.” The man on the ground sputtered, a little blood staining his lips.

Stephen looked scornfully at the Ferryman’s Absolution, just within reach. To the hunter’s horror the dark mark again manifested on the lord’s chest and tendrils of darkness crept toward them. Tony looked up at him with fear and dread.

“Please no…” He whispered.

“Fuck! Absolutely not!”

Stephen grabbed the relic his lord was dying for and coated it with his blood. He laid his hands in reverse on Tony’s chest, so the little fingers touched, and balanced the coin where his hands met. Nothing happened for a moment. The tendrils crept closer.

“FUCKING DAMMIT YOU OWE ME!” Stephen screamed through tears.

The coin glowed and was joined by light of the same coin-shaped brand through his hands. It stung sharply but he held them steady as he and Tony were enveloped in a bright white light that dispersed the creeping darkness. At the edges of their vision, delicate veil curtains fluttered in the winds of magic.

“I call in a favor to the Styx Ferryman”

**I have answered, stolen child to the Helsing clan**

A dark hooded figure from fairytale manifested above the pair on the ground. Withered hands clutched and equally worn wooden staff. Despite weakness setting in, Tony couldn’t help but look on in awe.

Stephen looked up with a strange familiarity with the entity.

“I beg you please to take this soul”

**But dear child, this is your agreed toll**

Despite this reply, the Ferryman examined Tony curiously. He ignored the claymore entirely and seemed to react with recognition at the threatening image on Tony's chest.

**Among guilt and sadness, there is a dark mark**

“I take it unto me so he may embark,” Stephen replied immediately looking intently at the figure. Tony made to reply, but the offending mark was plucked effortlessly by the Ferryman and placed on Stephen’s chest before he could protest. The mark on the hunter now pulsed with increasing intensity. Stephen physically reacted to the mark now, the weight and constricting feeling gave him an odd peace.

**That becomes six lifetimes of penance you owe**

Tony looked at Stephen with a panicked expression, but Stephen looked at him serenely. The other man shook his head gently, but knew it was already too late. Tony knowingly caressed Stephen’s hand with an unspoken promise. Without breaking his gaze with the naive brown eyes of his lord, Stephen replied.

“Yes Ferryman, I know.”

The Ferryman tossed the demon's claymore aside and Tony stood up, unharmed. He knelt down and kissed Stephen deeply. Pulling away, the brunette smiled and said. 

“Don’t ever write poetry, my love.” They both smiled and Tony pressed his forehead to Stephen’s. The hooded figure motioned for Tony to follow and he obliged. 

Stephen watched them walk away. The light around him flickered and reconcentrated into the glowing marks on his hands. He howled in pain as a new brand took the place of the coin on his skin and the designs on his palms now burned through to the backs of his hands. He knelt and tucked them into himself as both appendages now trembled uncontrollably in new pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, listen, LISTEN! This is what had been deposited in my head nearly a month ago and it is finally out.  
It is all such a damn relief. 
> 
> Now to put a bandaid on this.


	12. Beyond the Veil

Stephen found himself back at Greenwich hamlet after the better part of a year. Despite his efforts to avoid the area, several locals had sought him out with the help of a particular woodland dweller using the stationary of a previously betrothed. He was accompanied, much to his chagrin, by a new and incredibly young companion. Peter was barely a new man and had been one of the several villagers that were aware of Lord Stark’s efforts to rid the hamlet of occult happenings. While the inability to return with a body didn’t sit well with the lord’s family, others were happy to have their lives free of threats. Peter was of this camp, as he had seen the pair traveling through on that fateful day. 

Their horses trod along to a developing community on the outer rim of the Stark lands. Stephen wasn’t entirely unsure of what could be causing an awful problem since he was certain all sources of demonic power had been eradicated. From what he had heard, the farmlands were fruitful and there were no reports of bandits since their encounter with Umar.

“Do you think I could ever make one of those.” Peter asked behind the hunter.

“It is one of a kind.” Stephen’s trembling gloved hand ran along the repeater kept at his belt. “Maybe one day. Isn’t the leather armor I provided you enough of a gift?”

The truth was, since the injury to his hands, aiming or drawing a bow had become impossible. It was the only non-conjured weapon he had come to rely on. He reasoned that Peter was warmed with leather armor, his old bow, and a quiver full of runed arrows.

The pair found their way to their destination as the sun was setting. Stephen felt a sense of deja vu at the time and place. The leader of the community approached them as they dismounted. His name was Wilson and he described high pitched screaming through the night. He mentioned that it “was a miracle” that no one ever got hurt and the morning only revealed property damage. However, it was growing tiresome as it continued to set back the community’s development and it was only a matter of time before someone would get hurt. While listening, Stephen had to agree. He felt somewhat relieved to be doing preventative work, but his mind seemed to hold on to ‘miracle’ as an odd word for the situation.

Since something was coming in the night, Stephen and Peter opted to camp instead of staying in the inn or with a villager. The hunter strongly suggested that his companion collect firewood while he protected them with runes. It wasn’t long before the night sky had settled around them and the crackling of the fire was all the could be heard. 

“What was he like?” Peter asked gently, throwing another log onto the fire. The pair sat around the blaze, resting until needed. If there was a battle tonight, it would be the boy’s first.

“You’re not ready.” Stephen replied with an annoyed familiarity, face covered with his tricorne.

“I don’t care, I want to know what my lord was like!” Peter stood up from his perch. “You don’t even have to tell me what took him. I just want to know a little about him.”

Stephen sat up, pushing his hat aside. He offered his young companion a glare, but was stunned to see familiar earnestness. Sitting up, he sighed and felt an irritating compulsion to reply. 

“Lord Anthony Stark was a foolhardy, stubborn, bull-headed,” He paused when Peter sat down across from him with a touch of dejection. “Brilliant, compassionate, and persistent man.” Stephen’s tone adjusted when he remembered when Tony chased after him in the woods. He remembered a promise from the younger man to follow along in his travels. His vision blurred a bit as he remembered the desire to give the lord a mark of protection for their future together.

“All he wanted was to serve his people righteously and kindly. It wasn’t a fate that he asked for.”

Despite the time that had passed, Stephen was still left weaker than before his encounter with Umar. The streaks of white in his hair had spread to his whiskers and his chest had never healed fully. Stephen removed his gloves, choosing to reveal the brands on his trembling hands. Peter was shocked at his companion’s willingness to show something he had been protecting since they had met. The brands were deep, easily mistaken for a hole through the bearer’s hands entirely.

“Peter,” Stephen steadied his voice, shocked that he was going to give voice to what he would say next. Something he hadn’t even spoken to himself. “This was the price of safe passage, for the man I love.”

Awareness and understanding washed over Peter, his expression softened and he looked away from his mentor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, you’d have to know eventually.” Stephen said sadly. “I just hope that he knew too.”

“I’m sure he did Dr. Strange.” Peter picked up a glove from the ground. “He had to.”

Their moment ended abruptly as a high pitched scream tore through the night. Trees creaked as a towering creature ambled through the woods and toward the village. Stephen and Peter scrambled to intercept the creature’s path at the forest’s edge. Clawing through the tops of the trees emerged monster whose skin was stretched against the bones of its pale frame. Hollowed eyes, partially obscured by dark hair, stared down upon the duo. 

“A wendigo.” Stephen stated in disbelief, he knew they were woefully unprepared for such a beast. He readied the repeater and bright orange mandalas came to life on Peter’s armor.

“Whaaa-”

“Focus Peter!” A clawed fist came down between them, forcing them to dart away from one another. 

Peter released an arrow toward the head of the beast, which turned into a lavender bolt of energy before finding its mark. The wendigo roared, swiping toward Peter. The mandalas manifested into shields, taking the brunt of the blow, but Peter got knocked backwards.

“Peter!” 

“I’m okay!”

Stephen flinched as he summoned the familiar whip to catch the creature’s other upraised arm. With his other hand, he manned the repeater, sending several silver bolts at the monster’s heart. The wendigo screeched as the bolts connected, but its skin was stronger than it appeared. It wrenched free from the whip’s grasp and scratched out the bolts. The monster reared for attack, coming down on all fours. Stephen fished for a sigil, throwing the first he could find toward his charging attacker. This was knocked off trajectory and into the brush, leaving Stephen vulnerable. The hunter threw his arms up and braced for impact. 

But nothing came. Intense light screamed through his closed eyelids. Squinting, he tried to look at what was happening around him. Before he could bring his arms down, a hand pushed him gently backwards. The new distance helped Stephen’s eyes focus on figure emitting a ridiculous amount of light in front of him. The figure of a man was nearly discernable, somehow clutching both clawed arms of the wendigo with one hand.

“Close your eyes you idiot!” Came a familiar voice to the man on the ground.

“You heard him Peter!” Stephen called out and did as he was told. He shut his eyes tight and knelt down to take cover near the ground. He could feel the amount of light being emitted by his rescuer. After a moment, the light subsided and Stephen’s vision started to clear. A hand reached out to him.

“I’ve got you.” Stephen looked up and saw the familiar face of the young lord.

“T-Tony?” He quivered in disbelief. Tony didn’t offer a reply, but smiled smugly.

Stephen launched himself at the man, hugging far too tightly. It nearly knocked Tony over, but he returned the gesture with similar fervor. The hunter started to tremble in the embrace.

“I-I thought-” Stephen cried into the man’s shoulder.

“It’s okay Stephen.” Tony tried to comfort his hunter. “I said, I want to give you everything. And I still do.”

Stephen finally pulled away to face Tony. He was dressed exactly the same, his red waistcoat was pristine and bright. He looked down to find a new emblem hovering and rotating above the lord’s chest. It was a mark he had never seen before.

“It’s a mark of grace.” Tony explained casually. “Honestly I don’t think it suits me, your’s would have been better. Oh well.” 

“Grace?!” Stephen was astonished.

“Yea, I could have come back sooner if you believed.” Tony chided. “But you are so deep into occult, why would you believe in the ethereal. Jacob blamed himself for that. So I settled for when you were able to admit you love me.” 

“J-Jacob?” Stephen stuttered.

“Yea, he’s very proud of you.” Tony remarked, enjoying having all the answers for once. Stephen again processed what he had heard.

“Was my love not apparent?” 

“When two or more are gathered,” Stephen looked confused. “You had to admit it aloud to someone. Accountability!”

“I love you, and I will never stop.” Stephen captured Tony’s lips in a kiss. Tony tasted like electricity and felt like home. He felt hands creep into his hair, tugging desperately, proving this was real.

“Um, sorry to interrupt.” Peter spoke up meekly. Tony tapped Stephen’s chest lightly to free himself. The hunter groaned but obliged.

“Are you, Lord Stark?” 

“In the flesh, kid.” Tony offered his hand to Peter and it was received with enthusiasm.

“My goodness, I-er all of us, the people wanted to thank you somehow. And now you’re here! You’re like a...wait did you never die?”

“No I did,” Tony said flatly and Stephen flinched a little, but Tony squeezed his hand. “But I got a second chance to live a life that is my own. Where my soul wasn’t bartered before I was born. Speaking of which.” Tony turned back to his companion. “Don’t get mad okay? You didn’t give me a choice, so I’m not giving you one.”

Stephen looked on in confusion. Tony stepped back and extended an arm toward his hunter while he concentrated. His emblem built up speed, rotating quickly, sending tendrils outward around Tony. Shades of ornate armor and golden wings slowly became visible on his body. At the same time, the dark mark was manifesting on Stephen’s chest, pulsing threateningly, causing the hunter to stumble. Tony stepped forward with purpose, hand now covered in translucent gauntlet, and pressed a finger to the darkness on his beloved. Upon contact, Tony’s armor, wings, and the dark mark shattered. Stephen was left feeling a lightness he never felt in all of his life. He felt like he could breathe, truly and entirely breathe. 

“What did you?” Stephen patted absently at where the mark used to be.

“I fell, for you.” Tony answered nonchalantly. “The seraphim title didn’t suit me, They agreed. This was always my plan anyway.”

“What! An angel?!” Stephen sputtered, bringing his shaking hands to his head that felt like it was cracking. He then realized his hands continued to ache.

“Sorry my friend, but that was the price paid.” Tony took one of Stephen’s hands and kissed the brand. 

“Fell?” Stephen finally connected.

“Yea, but I keep this.” Tony pointed at the rotating emblem on his chest that disappeared when he waved it away. “To remind you that there are friends beyond the veil.” Tony took Stephen’s other hand so that he held both tightly. “But most of all, we get our own lives. Our own souls and destinies, free to do as we please as semi-mortals.” He offered his hunter the same familiar look of earnestness. “What do you say?”

Stephen stepped in and kissed Tony.

“You are all I could ever need. Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is where my brain wanted me to start this fic. THANKS GARBAGE BRAIN FOR GIVING ME AN ENDING FIRST! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this weird fever dream. I am just happy to get it out for you all. Thank you a million times over for the love and kudos.


End file.
